Moonless Night
by TenraiTsukiyomi
Summary: In the end, there was loss as there was gain. "Who will protect the protector?" was the last thoughts of two minds, before they united to fulfill their final desire. — And separated by a whole dimension, a Moonless Night searched for the reason of his existence, the Orange Sun that haunted him so often. She was the Protector, and he was the Guardian of the Protector.


**As I said, I have little to no resistance against my inspiration... U-U This story is not related to my other stories, especially Shattered or Reborn? Just no. If I want it to work the way I want to... it can't be connected to the other stories. And yeah, I know I'm in trouble. **

**Summary:  
****In the end, there was loss as there was gain. "Who will protect the protector?" was the last thoughts of two minds, before they united to fulfill their final wish. — And separated by a whole dimension, a Moonless Night searched for the reason of his existence, the Orange Moon that haunted him so often. —She was the Protector, and he was the Guardian of the Protector.—**

**Warning: Ichigo is a girl & AU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach**

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**~~The Moonless Night's Purpose~~**

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The battle between Aizen Sosuke and Seireitei was over, and the Shinigami rejoiced, they laughed and cried, they smiled and teared up.

The threat was gone. Aizen Sosuke was gone, but it was not without price; nothing could ever undone everything he had done, and it would be recorded in the history of Seireitei, and one of his goals were already achieved.

Because of him, there was now suspicion in Seireitei. It would be centuries before Shinigami would stop looking over their shoulders to not get tricked by another one like him. Trust was broken, and it would be hard to return to the normality it had been centuries ago. Treachery and betrayals would be the suspicion of many years to come, and it would be up to the Shinigami to discover the truth or chase those people out like they did to the Vizards years ago.

The Vizards may have helped with the war, but it didn't mean they forgave Soul SOciety; the only side they were fighting, in the war, was Ichigo and Karakura's side. Some of the Vizards would probably laugh and eat popcorn while watching Seireitei burn, because, why should they help them when Seireitei abandoned them? Since the time they chased the Vizards out of Soul Society, the Shinigami destroyed any harmony there could be between them, and if there was any possible alliance in the future, it would be treated as such with extreme grudge, cautiousness and spite.

Normal human lives were lost forever, because want it as they did, Inoue Orihime, Yasutora Sado, Ishida Uryuu, Kurosaki Ichigo... Their lives would never be the same. Simple school life will just be boring, and the feeling of the supernatural was already too deep in their lives. The Hollows attack on their town will always get their attention, and they will never be able to return to those carefree time of their lives, the times where they laughed without having to worry about spirits, Hollow attacks or nightmares about Hueco Mundo; nightmares about the main antagonist over their change.

And thanks to Aizen's betrayal, some were permanently scarred throughly; Hinamori Momo was a proof of this.

No one came out unscathed, because that's what war does to you, no matter how short. It engraves something deep in the soul. You may forget the images, but the feeling will always stay with you, and the longing of feeling the normal peaceful times...

The prices were endless, each varying with their grief or hatred, spite or sadness; it depended on each person or no one at all.

One of the prices, was what Ichigo sacrificed to defeat the main antagonist.

Because with the cost of using the Saigo no Getsuga Tensho, parts of her were forever gone; and she_ screamed_, because nothing was ever more painful than feeling your other selves fading from your soul. Ichigo screamed as her reiatsu left her, screamed as her partners died, screamed as the cries of victory and shock and relief and panic and concern engulfed her ears; before she fell unconscious, only able to wait as her sideways world_ (**their** world, **their** home, **their** sanctuary)_ was destroyed, and it _hurt_ to know it was caused by herself.

She saved her friends, saved her family, saved the fate of three universes; but she couldn't save _them_. No, she literally sent them to their deaths; and that realization almost caused her to break down, except that she couldn't because she was already unconscious and _still screaming_ as everything that made her what she was this day left her.

Still, that price was two parts of her** soul**. Equivalent exchange was required in everything with power, not even Aizen Sosuke was spared from this, because in exchange for the Hogyoku's power he had to listen and** obey**, something which he did without knowing and showing the manipulation he unknowingly weaved himself in.

And no matter what anyone said, a soul was immortal, a soul had no price, no equal exchange; there was a reason they were simply taken to hell, Soul Society or Hueco Mundo after all. When living beings die, they go to Soul Society, Hell or Hueco Mundo. When Hollows are consumed by other Hollows they exist within that Hollow, and they are reborn in Soul Society if killed by a Zanpakuto. When a soul is completely destroyed it becomes part of nature, without a mind or soul, just pure particles of spirit energy. WHen a soul dies, it is reincarnated or imprisoned, whichever comes first because these are still a mystery to the universes.

And in the light of this, despite doing it to save everything she held dear, Ichigo still gave up two components of her soul. The soul, even if divided, had no equal exchange.

Saving everyone's life? Winning the war? Using the Saigo no Getsuga Tensho?

Kurosaki Ichigo, Tensa Zangetsu and Shiro Zangetsu assumed it was, that the latter two had to die in order to do that, but they were still young compared to centuries old Shinigami; and even their knowledge was limited, because matters of the soul was still in search no matter what some may believe.

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Urahara Kisuke discovered this later, but the Hogyoku wasn't with Aizen anymore. It was gone, out of sight, and in unknown hands; and at hearing these news, Seireitei's celebrations was quickly put to a stop as terror and fear and cautiousness and anger set in.

Everyone who heard the news thought the same thing: It wasn't over, this could be a plot of Aizen's.

Urahara, as he watched the tired figures of ally and friends alike, wondered if this was also another plot of Aizen's, but in a different way than other thought.

Maybe, this was a way to not let them rest, to get them to not relax and think he was still the manipulator in this; and maybe, it was true.

Questions rose, but there was no answer to them.

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A bluish white orb, so tiny and small in contrast to its power...

The same Hogyoku who was setting everyone on edge was in the hands of a black-haired man, whose crimson eyes just stared at the object of power apathetically.

The blackette man was... strange, for the lack of better word. Black seemed to be the theme color of his. His hair, as black as the moonless night, was long and reached his thighs, fluttering in waves and seeming like a never-ending void of darkness. Bandages, tattered and ripped, wrapped and covered his chest, torso and one of his arms. A strange tattooed-like flame covered his other arm uncovered by bandages, as if they were burned in his arm, yet there was no tint of comfort in his body language. His lower face, as well, was covered in bandages up to his nose; his crimson eyes, the color of fresh-spilt blood, was intense and uncaring.

He was relaxed, at ease and uncaring that he was in the world of Hueco Mundo.

Because he _saw_, he _realized_ and he_ knew_ that any creäture who even dared approach him would drop dead before they even got hundred feet near him; a mountain of Hollow corpses were already surrounding him, the Hollows having instantaneously died the moment he appeared from within the rift of Dimensions.

From merely looking at the carcass of the monsters, something inside him sparked and he suddenly knew what they were, knew their nature and cycle; knowledge was pounded inside his brain before he had known.

Reiatsu, Hollow, Arrancar, Reiryoku... It was all foreign and it gave him a brief headache, but it proved to be slightly useful, even though he was sure none of these creatures could even as much as scratch him; they were weak, he was strong, it was simple to understand.

Information flashed across his mind in brief and unconnected images; memories. They showed him images of Arrancar clothed in white, their masks but mere fragments and having weapons; _'Zanpakuto'_, his mind supplied the name of those weapons. Some of those 'Arrancar''had numbers engraved in various places of their bodies, the most prominent Arrancar he could see was one with tear-tracks on each of his cheeks, golden irises and black sclera, body half-bat and half-human; he could read his lips mouthing about being emptiness and showing despair to whoever he was talking.

He knew about this world, its general knowledge was easy to understand and adapt; but he didn't know himself.

As far as he knew, he was alone. He was neither Hollow, Arrancar, Human or Shinigami. He had no name.

He was and had nothing.

_No, wait, he had something._

_**Orange.**_ There was always orange amidst the flashes of black, red and white. Those flashes of orange were always detailed _-he memorised the exact shade of orange it was, he saw different shades of orange in those white masks of Hollows and they were simply **repulsing**, simply not the shade of orange that he longed to see with his own eyes because the feelings they gave him were so—_ and it filled him with something unknown. After studying them throughly, and linking them to the feelings of his other flashes, he assumed they were... they were... Well, the list was countless, if he was honest; and he was impressed and awed as he was irked and confused.

The color _— orange __—_ that flashed through his mind frequently, always made him _feel_; and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. There was sadness, loneliness, rage and hurt, but there was happiness and a light feeling that made him feel... at peace, for the lack of a better word.

Yet, there was no lead. He had no name, no hands to help him because he killed them before they even got close, The only hands he had were the ones at the end of his bandage-tattoo covered wrists, those hands of which digged and gathered sand in an almost surprised_ - awed - confused - child like wonder -_ fashion; his flashes of images had these sands, but still, it was almost amazing how they looked upon closer inspection...

Given that he knew nothing aside from fighting and those flashes of images which contained only general knowledge, he was surprised at how Hollows looked when he looked closer, and how the sand felt even though it was a bit muffled because of his bandages. He had known nothing aside from the color of Hueco Mundo, the color of blood as it oozed from the corpses of Hollow, the color of white as the moon shone on the white masks of black corpses...

Ever since he got out of that Dimensional Rift _- Garganta, his mind instantly supplied -_ his world only consisted of black Hollows, broken masks, white moon, white sands, red blood and nameless, unmoving corpses.

And, in this world he knew as much as he didn't know about, the only color worth notable, worth remembering, worth_ feeling_ - was orange.

And once again, ever since he was dumped in the lonely sands of Hueco Mundo, he looked beyond as he stood on one of the dunes of sand, his hand coming up to faintly brush against his chest; because he knew what was there. _The jewel_, a tiny sized object of which he knew nothing about yet got a feeling of, he was reluctant to just drop it, because even he, for all his power of which could blind him from other weaklings, sensed the power just burning beneath the surface of the marble; fortunately, his own power and will was enough to clamp down the presence or its manipulations.

" . . . " His half-lidded eyes watched his surroundings, those of which had corpses of dead Hollows and broken masks, a mixed color of ink black and crimson red and dead white...

From beneath his bandage, his lips pulled into a dark scowl, and he turned away while closing his eyes; immediately, flashes of orange blurred through his mind, making him relax slightly because something in the black and white and red of his surroundings just _irked_ him.

Then, his crimson eyes snapped open, and that flash of orange still streaked across his mind.

Except, this time it was accompanied by flashes of lips curling —_ a cheeky smile —_ a brown color — _warm and fierce eyes — _and a sound so foreign to his ears.

Even as seconds passed, that foreign sound glimpsed from just an image echoed in his mind as he tried to wrapped his thoughts around it. The sound... It was so unlike the sounds of a mask crackling, the oozing of blood, the soundless winds or the shuffles of sand; it was... unique. And for some reason, something within him desired to hear more of that foreign sound.

But it didn't come, and he was left to ponder soundless, apathetically, and maybe even lonely.

_Orange,_ it brought him yet again something that he wished to see and hear.

_Orange,_ it was the only thing empowering his will so that the little marble of power wouldn't manipulate him.

_Orange,_ it was a simple color and yet he wished to see _that_ unique shade of orange.

In the deepest corners of his mind and subconscious, he knew that shade of Orange was his whole world, his pillar of strength, his reason for _existing_.

And if by some reason it were to be tainted with red _(of the blood he often saw_) or pitch-dark black _(like the color representing these monsters of death)_...

He knew he won't have a reason to exist anymore, just as he knew that he will destroy the cause of that taint, and slaughtering anything and anyone who got in his path.

It was just a feeling inside him, corresponding very well with the voices in his head.

_"As if we care about what becomes of the things you want to protect. Make no mistake, *****. The things that you wish to protect are not the things that we want to protect!"_

___"We don't care about your precious Karakura, the Shinigami whom you've befriended, the Humans you so cherish, or your alliance with Soul Society; we will gladly tear those things apart and watch everything burn to the ground if it's necessary."_

_"The only thing we care about — The only one **we** want to protect, is** you**, *****."_

That orange didn't have a name, yet it was what he wished and_ had_ to protect. It was as simple as that, even if he didn't know why or what or _who_ that shade of orange was.

The only thing he knew was that it_ (she) _was very precious to him.

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**This isn't part of SHattered or Reborn's plot. So, if you find anything in here... DON'T TAKE IT TO FACE VALUE! IT DOESN'T, IN ANY WAY, INVOLVE Shattered or Reborn. This is just something my creepy, fangirling, twisted mind made up when I saw a pic of MugetsuIchigo, and coupling it with my love for FemIchigo, this just happened. U_U Mortifying, I know, and totally lacking common sense.**

**I really thank ZangetsuOldMan for beta-ing this.**


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